Black Hands White Heart
by Infinite Finale
Summary: The city of Westeros is known for two things – the fashion that dominates the streets and the politics of her ruling families.


Black Hands; White Heart

_The city of Westeros is known for two things – the fashion that dominates the streets and the politics of her ruling families._

* * *

Hospital;

_So I've been sleeping with this silence in my brain  
I wake up here every day in this god damn place  
I won't wait here anymore._

* * *

The first time that Arya met Gendry was before the cold winds blew – back when her brother lay broken in a hospital bed. It was a time where all that could be heard was the soft beeping of a heart monitor, and the strained sobs of the girl's mother as she lay crumpled over her son's bed.

"We have to be prepared for the real fact that he might not wake up," her father had said, draping his hand over Catelyn's shoulder. Eddard Stark wore his usual stoic expression, though the dark haired Tully woman ahead of him was in disarray, brushing hair away from Bran's face and trying, in vain, to prop his favourite toy Summer under his arm.

"I can't think like that, Ned. I won't," she told him. "Bran _will _wake up and, when he does, he'll need us. He'll need me." There was desperation in her face – the lines on her face that seemed to be permanently etched in dismay. Her voice was a croak, though it managed to be heard despite the rest. "If he is crippled… E-Even if the nurses worry he's done brain damage… he's still my son; _my_ son. I can't abandon him." As much as she tried to be steady, she found her throat closing and her eyes pricking with water. It wasn't long before Ned would gather her in his arms, mumbling reassurances and petting her soft brown hair.

"Yes, he will wake, Cat. He will wake."

Outside the Stark children were lined up against the boy's private room, watching as nurses rushed past the four carrying supplies and blankets. Occasionally one or two would push the door into Bran's room, though they would offer no reassurances to whether his condition had improved or not. It did little to stem their nerves.

Robb was furious, iPhone in hand as he dialled their half-brother who worked at the edge of the city at a place known as The Wall. "They don't think it was an accident, Jon! They think Bran was pushed. I have no idea who the –" His voice became softer as his grey eyes looked over to Rickon, who tried to occupy himself with his Nintendo DS, and continued, "The fuck it is, but I'll be willing to bet it was some Lannister bastard. Ever since father agreed to do business with Robert with the winter coming on, you know they haven't been really happy. Theon? Yeah, he's home dealing with that front…"

Sansa, by comparison, tried to keep her emotions in check. Despite the events at hand she was as beautiful as ever – the makeup from her last shoot still clinging to her face with only the slightest streaks of her eyeliner to show she had even cried. She seemed distant, though; preoccupied with her own thoughts. She barely even looked to her phone, despite the dozens of messages she seemed to get, and the slightest frown touched her face that was the only resistance she gave to Robb's word. It was no secret that the eldest daughter was heavily involved in Baratheon and, henceforth, Lannister business, and she wouldn't approve of such things being discussed in her presence. For now, however, she remained decidedly silent.

Then there was Arya – all of the wild north and brooding anger kept in a tiny frame that threatened to spill out at any moment. By comparison to Sansa you would be hard pressed to find them sisters. Where Sansa was beauty, poise and the face magazines clawed over each other to photograph, Arya was decidedly… not. She wore knee length combat boots; band t-shirts and a face that seemed permanently scowling to ruin most of her features. This was no more apparent as she swung her legs back and forth as she sat, making sure they crashed angrily into the wall behind her.

"Jon says he'll be here as soon as he can phone in work and let them know what's going on," Robb explained, pointedly ignoring the younger girl's antics as he hung up his phone. It would cause Sansa to look up and give a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, brushing her hair from her face.

"Lannister's, huh?" She asked, causing Robb to hesitate. Arya, however, was having none of it, and it showed.

"Who else could it be that would push him? Ever since father denied that agreement –" Arya began, only to have Sansa cut her off as the two began to argue.

"You don't know that it was them! You can't just go around accusing people of things they haven't done!"

"What happens when they find the security tape? We all know Bran never falls. Never! And he's climbed higher than that!" With tempers already on edge from their brother, it seemed that none of the Starks were in a current state to fight. The yelling of the two girls caused Rickon's eyes to fill with tears and he joined in trying to plead for them to stop. Robb too tried to intervene, and as a hand was laid on Arya to quell her it was all she could do to tear herself from his grip.

"No! You all act like it was Bran's fault! He doesn't fall! _He doesn't fall! _And when we find out he was pushed, you'll all come running to me. I'll kill whoever hurt him, mark my words!"

She turned and ran from them then. She ran away from Rickon's tears and Robb's anger; away from her parent's dismay and Sansa's dismissal. As she burst into the hospital gardens, ignoring the flowers and falling leaves around her form, she barely noticed where she was going until her body crashed into the solid mass of another, making her crash onto the damp ground below.

"Hey! Watch where the hell you're going!" The voice scolded, a hand reaching down to pick up Arya by the arm. He barely managed to get her to her feet before she ripped herself away.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed, eyes looking up to the stranger. She was surprised by what she saw. The boy could not have been that much older than her – with a mop of jet black hair and bright blue eyes that reminded her of the sky. They narrowed in irritation, strong arms crossing over a bull on his ratty, old shirt as he observed her.

"I was only trying to help."

"I don't need your help!" She retorted, a hand reaching up to wipe the water from her eyes. How childish and stupid could she be? She had burst from her brother's ward, slammed into this boy and now she was crying in front of him. She was a wolf of the house Stark, not a little girl! Yet, the boy before her seemed torn between giving his own retort and feeling sorry for her. It made her angrier.

"Yeah, well, that's probably a good thing. The hospital has enough people to help without us contributing to the mass." He smiled wryly, a lame attempt at humour. It gave Arya time to dry her eyes as she looked to him.

"Who are you here for then?" She asked, trying to steady her voice. The boy gave a sigh, gestured to the bench and began to walk.

"I won't touch you again, I promise," he reassured her. Arya rolled her eyes but, despite that, she found herself drawing closer to him until they sat down under a giant tree. The leaves continued to fall around them, the occasional one slapping her gently. She paid no mind to them.

"My mum has breast cancer – stage four," the boy explained, resting his hands on his lap as they sat on the bench. It didn't surprise Arya given the direction he seemed to walk from. Behind them the Cancer Unit stood ominously, the occasional doctor and bald head peeking through the windows. Still, it would cause her to gnaw on her lip unpleasantly, the only sign she gave that she was sorry about how she treated him before. The taller boy didn't seem to notice. Or mind – she couldn't tell. "Doctors say if she had caught it earlier they might have been able to do somethin' about it. But we barely had enough money to keep our house and food. She couldn't afford the doctors."

"What about your dad?" Arya found herself blurting out the question, making him laugh. The noise was hollow, though; sarcastic.

"I got no dad. My mum says he was some rich bastard she met in a pub one night. She drank too much; forgot to protect herself. When I was born, my dad wanted nothing to do with me. I got the name Waters."

'_Waters, the bastard's name,' _Arya thought to herself, suddenly reminded of Jon. Ever since she was little, she had been aware of her brother's status in their family. Snow was the northern name, as Waters was the one for south. Despite whatever her family would say when it came to legitimising Jon, her mother would not bear the idea of another woman's child having the same status as her own. _"You left me for a business trip and you come back with a son! He is not mine, Ned! I won't let him have the name!"_

"I'm sorry," she began, her mind mentally scolding her. _"What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't give this kid's mother cancer – neither of you were looking when you ran into each other!" _When the pain from chewing her lip became apparent, she let it go and leaned back on the bench. "I'm Arya, by the way. Arya Stark."

"Wait… Stark? As in Ned Stark's business?" The surprise in his tone was obvious; the widening of his blue eyes showing that he had connected the name to what he believed was Arya's background. She mentally groaned. "You're that rich family that moved into King's Landing! You're a lady!"

"Do _not _call me a lady!" She all but snarled, the anger from Sansa's actions before suddenly bubbling at his remark. The Bull must not have heard – though why he didn't she couldn't say. He might have been just that stupid – and he continued.

"Yeah, you guys own that skiing and fashion line that you paired with the Baratheon's. It's been all over TV. Your brother's Bran, right? The police think he got pushed out of a window." He paused then, careful that what he said might cause the girl more anger than what she already felt. In that moment, it gave Arya the opposite effect. If the police thought that he was pushed, that was more to her claim. She could take _that _to Sansa! "And you have that house at the top of the hill everyone keeps talking about. You're rich!"

"Don't call me rich, either!" Arya snapped, pushing herself off the bench to spin to look at him. Where she thought he would be stunned by her actions, the boy seemed almost… bemused? How? What stupid boy would take delight out of her anger?

"As my rich lady commands." He lowered his eyes which made Arya all the madder, and she lunged at him. Pushing him roughly by the shoulders, she caused him to fall into the flower bush behind her. But instead of yelling or complaining as she thought he would, he just laughed. It was a loud laugh, too – genuine, she would have said. It seemed like the first wave of happiness he had given since she met him.

"Shut up!" She hissed, crossing her arms angrily over her shoulders. Yet The Bull continued, and it took almost everything she had not to kick him when he was down. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

"I'm sorry," he began, but she could tell he really wasn't. He climbed up so that his torso draped over the bench; the only indication that he planned to get up. "You're nothing like a lady, but you get so worked up when someone points it out."

"Oh yeah? We'll you're just a stupid, bull headed –" Arya began her rant, only to be cut off mid-way.

"Gendry."

"What?"

"Gendry – my name. My name is Gendry." The boy smiled at her, genuine this time. Arya glared at him for a few moments longer, before it faded into a frown.

"Gendry then. You're still stupid." He laughed at her again and pulled himself back onto the bench, brushing leaves and spider webs from his body.

"You're still a lady."

That was how Arya and Gendry became friends. After their initial encounter they sat and chatted in the hospital garden for a few hours, until Arya got a text that Jon had arrived. She offered for Gendry to come back with her but the boy had refused, stating that he should get back to his mother. Despite this, she took his number down and made him promise (A thing that Gendry would come to realise she did instead of asking. She wasn't one for that.) That he would come and visit her in the garden when the two were visiting at the same time.

They existed that way for a number of weeks. Bran's condition was improving but he had yet to open his eyes, and Gendry's mother seemed to be precariously balanced between well and brutally sick. Arya found she enjoyed Gendry's company, as annoying as he could be, and he didn't mind the youngest Stark daughter despite her boldness.

However, it was in the last month of Autum where everything would change.

"Bran's awake!" Sansa had screamed, peeling down the hall of their house. It was a wonder that she didn't skid along the marble floor, heels and all clicking ominously against the stone. As she stopped outside of Arya's room, the girl was furiously trying to pack things for the trip to the hospital, throwing them into a duffle bag.

"What are you waiting for!? You were the one that was getting mad at us for thinking he was gone!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She replied, trying to toss her phone into the bag. It was only when the light of a message burned through the rest of the objects inside did she realise that she had a message from Gendry. As she pulled it out, her heart stopped and her stomach tightened into knots.

_Mum's gone._

"Oh no," she whispered.

"ARYA!"

"I'm COMING! By the seven!" She bellowed, hauling her bag over her shoulder. As she rushed out the door, she tried to hurridly text him back.

_I'm on my way. Don't move._

_I don't plan too._

* * *

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Hi guys! This is my first attempt at a full length Gendrya fic. Please be gentle!


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